The Pathological Is Political

 

The Pathological Is Political

Peter Schultz

 

                  The hypothesis: the pathological has roots in the political.

 

                  Consider the Clintons, Bill and Hillary. Hillary’s failures were due to her ambition. The ambitious seek, above all, success, but success requires playing by the established rules. The established rules in the United States are patriarchal. So, to achieve success, Hillary had to play by those rules, which ultimately left her angry and bitter.

 

                  One senior White House official, who worked with Hillary asked, “whether Hillary had ever been a genuinely happy or even content person.” He said that “perhaps … it was most essential” … to realize that “she must have been an unhappy person for most of her adult life. And a very angry one at that … often in a state of agitated discontent … sometimes icy cold and embittered, though … capable of fun and laughter and warm friendship (though rarely of irony).” [pp. 310-11, A Woman in Charge, Carl Bernstein]

 

                  So, to achieve the success she craved, Hillary had to play by established rules, which left her angry and bitter. And the “higher” she rose in the established order, the tighter she was bound by those rules. Because that what happens – to everyone. Bill Clinton described the presidency as “a high class ‘penitentiary.’” [279] More success invariably means less freedom and less privacy. And if you are incapable of irony – of laughing at what are conventionally thought to be the most serious matters – you are bound to become angry, bitter, and discontent.

 

                  One possible response to this situation is to seek solace or comfort in ways that are conventionally disapproved of, for example, in sexual or drug-induced excesses. But insofar as you are a member of the elite, these choices, if revealed, will ruin you, lead to your downfall because they threaten the established order, revealing its hollowness. This helps explain why elites condemned Bill Clinton’s sexual escapades more forcefully than did ordinary Americans. The latter are not as deeply invested in the established order as its elites are. Hence, it should not have been surprising that “editors and reporters” of the nation’s three leading newspapers, the NY Times, Washington Post, and Wall Street Journal, treated “Hillary and Bill [as if they] were neck deep in corruption.” [348-9] And, of course, protecting the established, patriarchal order required that Clinton’s sexual pathology be exposed, because his right to privacy was less important than the established order. He might try to claim that his pathologies were only his and Hillary’s business, but given their political implications, that claim would be and was easily denied.

 

                  Our pathologies have roots in the political. Which gives added meaning to Aristotle’s claim that we humans are “political animals.” Because she lived in a patriarchy, Hillary’s road to political success went through Bill Clinton, went through a marriage that was destined from the outset to be characterized by bitterness, anger, discontent, and disappointment. Moreover, it also meant that Hillary’s decision to seek success politically guaranteed the same kinds of pathology. Our pathologies have roots in the political. Patriarchy is a way of life.

Hitler and the Political

Hitler and the Political

Peter Schultz

 

                  Which best explains Hitler, his “unique instinct for power,” or the incompetence of his enemies? The question matters regarding the character of the political. The former implies that the political is potentially an arena conducive to greatness, both personal and political. The latter implies the political is an arena characterized by incompetence and blindness. The former leads to the affirmation of the political, while the latter leads to irony. What looks like greatness isn’t that at all. Rather, it’s a comedy of errors made to look heroic or noble, a comedy of incompetence made to look like competence, or savagery made to look like righteous war. Danger lies in affirming the political, whereas safety lies in treating it ironically. The danger is characterizing Hitler as “unique,” whereas safety lies in laughing at him.

 

                  Similarly, conspiracy theories about 9/11, for example, affirm the political because they assert the attacks were made possible by carefully laid plans to create “a new Pearl Harbor” so the United States could eventually dominate the world. Ironically, such “thinking” is reassuring. Thus, the attacks were seen as impressive feats, thereby implying that the political arena is characterized by such feats and the equally impressive Global War on Terror, undertaken in response to the attacks. Whereas if the attacks reflected and were made possible by incompetence and blindness, then the responses should be carefully calibrated, i.e., not monumentally grand like eradicating evil. Given the character of the political, the monumentally grand is monumentally delusional or mad.

 

                  Conventionally understood, Hitler had a “unique instinct for power,” by which he fooled and rolled over his enemies to become “the master” of the German Reich. Serving evil ends, he was nonetheless “a genius.” But what if Hitler was merely less incompetent that his enemies? And because he was less incompetent, he succeeded – but only for a little while. “Funny how falling feels like flying – for a little while.” Funny, too, how the road to political glory is actually a dead end.

White Supremacy? Moral Supremacy?

 

White Supremacy? Moral Supremacy?

Peter Schultz

 

                  Commonly and correctly, Donald Trump is seen as a white supremacist. But he should also be seen as a moral supremacist. That is, as someone who sees that America and Americans – as he defines them – are morally superior to other nations and other humans. Democrats often fail to take sufficient notice of this.

 

                  But even if they did, they couldn’t take Trump on because they too are moral supremacists. And because a critique of moral supremacy requires a critique of America’s traditional values, like empire, capitalism, and “Waspishness,” as well as a critique of morality generally, the Democrats are unable to oppose Trump at his core. And so no Democratic critique of Trump’s signature mantra, “Make America Great Again,” has been heard.

 

                  Put differently, Democrats and Republicans share the view of America as victim and as exceptional, of America as being victimized because it is morally superior. This is the crux of Bush’s answer to the question, “Why do they hate us?” Because we Americans are morally superior.

 

                  So long as our elites share these convictions, just so long will the empire be secure, and just as long will the righteous savagery continue because colonization disguised as pacification is murderous work. So, whoever is president, “his or her job will be to preserve the myth of America as altruistic liberator …. [while] the terrible truth is that a Cult of Death rules America … hell-bent on world domination.” [Valentine, The CIA as Organized Crime, 378]

The Roots of Extremism

 

The Roots of Extremism

Peter Schultz

 

                  The following passages are found in the book The Forty Years War: The Rise and Fall of the Neocons from Nixon to Obama, by Len Colodny and Tom Shachtman:

 

                  “The fundamental and continual clash between ideology and pragmatism is a basic theme of human history. At certain times, however, it becomes possible to take actions that have both an ideological and pragmatic basis. The September 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon provided such an occasion.” [385]

 

                  Therein lie the roots of extremism. That is, to think that a “fundamental and continual clash” between two alternatives, here called “ideology” and “pragmatism,” does not require that a choice be made, that these two alternatives may both be embraced, is an invitation to political extremism. It is such political naivete that lies at the roots of extremism, as the policies of the Bush administration made clear, with, by the way, the wholehearted support of the American people and American elites across the board.

 

                  So: “President Bush and his advisers construed those attacks … as the ‘new Pearl Harbor’ the PNAC had predicted would be necessary to awaken the sleeping giant to the need to act aggressively in the world.” [385] That is, Bush and his advisers construed those attacks as an invitation to extremism, what Dick Cheney called “going to the dark side.” And they did so in part because they did not think that in the political arena humans are confronted by fundamental alternatives among which choices have to be made.

 

                  “So as they fashioned the response of the United States and its allies to the al-Qaeda terrorists who had planned and executed the attacks, they also conceived a new main enemy for America and the world, and the rationale for what President Bush called ‘a global war on terrorism.’” [385] And, of course, because Bush defined that war as a war to eradicate evil in the world, it can be accurately described as extremist, an extremism that mirrors the extremism of bin Laden and al-Qaeda.

 

                  Only when the political arena is understood as presenting fundamentally different and conflicting alternatives can political extremism be tamed or avoided. Without a recognition of such alternatives, the temptation to embrace extreme political projects is easily succumbed to, especially because absent a perception of such alternatives, it is all too easy to convince oneself that you know how all humans ought to live, that you know not only one good way to live but you know the ideal way all humans should live. Insofar as there are fundamentally different, conflicting but legitimate alternatives, just so far it impossible to embrace extremism.

Means as Ends

 

Means as Ends

Peter Schultz

 

            In their book, The Forty Years War: The Rise and Fall of the Neocons, Colodny and Shachtman highlight how Dr. Fritz Kraemer provided the neocons with rationales for their decidedly militaristic foreign policies. For example, when Reagan sent the Marines into Lebanon, Kraemer “cheered loudly” because “Rapid military responses to provocations” was one of his tenets. Moreover, Kraemer saw “the battle with the Soviet Union as involving will as well as strength.”

 

            Note: Kraemer was focused on means as if they were ends. Responding rapidly, provocatively, willfully was essential, as important as anything, because such responses demonstrated and validated that the US was capable of a morally virtuous politics.

 

            Similarly, anti-communism is more about means than ends because anti-communism proves, validates the virtues of the United States and its elites, even in the face of defeat or war, that is, regardless of the consequences. At one point, Colodny and Shachtman point out that some neocons like Wolfowitz and Perle engaged in “official and unofficial alliances with right-leaning regimes…” that led “to the policy disaster known as Iran-Contra.” [304] But to its leaders, such as Ollie North, Iran-Contra was not a policy disaster. Why not? Because their actions were considered noble and therefore served, ironically, as ends. Because North had acted nobly, he had nothing to be sorry for. In fact, he could and did proclaim his pride in his actions, achieving significant notoriety and popularity as a result. He had proved himself to be a morally virtuous American, which then redeemed his extremism.

 

            It is useful to think about moral virtue more generally, as both means and ends. As means, moral virtue is taken to promote happiness and well-being. But moral virtue tends to become an end, that is, as being good in itself. Being morally virtuous is all that matters. But this is a kind of extremism.

 

            For example, as noted with regard to Kraemer et. al., anti-communism is a kind of moral virtue as an end: “better dead than red.” Anti-communism is then a kind of extremism, to be pursued despite the costs. Or, more importantly, the extremism that is intrinsic to moral virtue produces anti-communism. Anti-communists illustrate the extremism intrinsic to the morally virtuous. Barry Goldwater once famously asserted that “Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice,” which is clearly a defense of extremism as well as liberty. So, to deal with anti-communism, to tame it, it is necessary to be clear about and deal with moral virtue and its extremism. At the roots of anti-communism lies moral virtue as the deeper phenomenon.

 

            Reagan himself experienced this phenomenon after he had declared the Soviet Union to be the “evil empire.” Ironically, “Reagan soon found … that the ‘evil empire’ phrase constrained him in formulating foreign policy.” Of course it did, because when confronting evil, formulating policies, i.e., seeking accommodations, is insipid. The only honorable course of action against evil is violence, war, and seeking to “kill the beast,” ala’ Jack in The Lord of the Flies. Arm yourself to the teeth and provocatively go after the evil ones, defeating or killing them as necessary, thereby proving and demonstrating your moral virtue.

 

            Being morally virtuous, confronting evil is intrinsically extremist. Did Machiavelli, e.g., know this? Does this help explain his anti-Christianity, while he allegedly appealed to pagan virtue? But insofar as he was aware of extremism intrinsic to moral virtue, perhaps he was opposed to both Christian and pagan virtue, creating new modes and orders based on a new understanding of “virtu.” Could the same thing be said of Plato, Aristotle, and others, such as Montesquieu and Nietzsche, as well? Hmmm…..

The Irony of the Political

 

The Irony of the Political

Peter Schultz

 

                  Common sense holds that “the ends justify the means.” So, in order to stay healthy or regain one’s health, one might have to undergo strenuous, even brutal medical procedures. The interesting thing though is that, very often, in politics “the means justify the ends.”

 

                  Take the Vietnam war, for example. The ends were to be the establishment of a non-communist South Vietnam, a nation that would ally with the United States and contribute to fortifying “the free world” by helping to contain communism. Obviously, though, those ends were not achieved and, so, they should not and could not be used to justify the means employed to achieve them. Failure in the end cannot justify the means employed.

 

                  On the other hand, when the means are thought to justify the ends, a different “logic” arises. For example, if the means used, because they are said to confirm the virtues of the United States, e.g., in opposing communism and doing so at great cost, may be said to justify the end results of that war even though the results represented failure. As Ronald Reagan and others liked to say, the Vietnam war was noble, which implies that the means employed justified the end results despite those results being failures. The means were noble, so the war, despite its bad, was justified. The means justified the ends. The means redeemed the failures. Ironically, the political often overrides common sense.

 

                  Moreover, this often means that the means become the ends, and failure does not even look like failure. When the means become detached from the ends, it is all too easy to tolerate failure without questioning the ends themselves. Acting virtuously, even in a lost cause or lost causes is thought to redeem the actions. This helps explain why political elites, even after suffering failures, over and over, persist in their actions. Because in defiance of common sense, the means are taken to justify the ends, even when the ends are unachievable. But common sense dictates that if ends are not achieved, then the both the ends and the means employed should be subjected to the strictest of scrutiny.

 

                 

 

 

Trump's Victory and Politics

 

Trump’s Victory and Politics

Peter Schultz

 

                  A comment on understanding the reaction to Trump’s victory and especially its intensity.

 

                  I heard recently from a friend that “Nixon sabotaged himself,” and, eventually, I thought: “Isn’t that comforting!” It means that politics is self-correcting, where the guilty convict themselves. It also means that, as some have said, the arc of history bends toward justice. In other words, the political may be affirmed because it self-corrects toward justice. Hence, Trump’s victory enrages many because it seems to be a political aberration so great that it must be attributable to the evils in the world, such as sexism and racism.

 

                  But what if the political isn’t self-correcting or tending toward justice? What if, in fact, while the political has intrinsic characteristics, those tendencies bend toward dominance, and not toward justice? That is, whether just or unjust, the political tends toward dominance, toward repression and imperialism. Insofar as this is so, then the political arena favors those who the dominant ones, regardless of whether they seek justice or injustice. Thus, by embracing or affirming the political, Trump’s enemies, ironically, undermine themselves in their battle with him. Battling Trump in the political arena plays to his strengths, enraging his enemies by making them feel powerless.

 

                  But so long as his enemies indulge their rage politically, Trump will likely prevail. Because politics so often involves vicious circles, the vicious, like Trump, are often the most adept and the strongest politically.

Conspiracies, Morality, and Politics

Conspiracies, Morality, and Politics

Peter Schultz

 

                  Being conspiratorial is essential for achieving political success. And successful conspirators dress up their conspiracies as moral campaigns. Successful conspirators are able and willing not to be good, as needed. For example, by relying on, allying with criminals, drug dealers, or other disreputable types.

 

                  Politics tends toward the melodramatic, that is, as being redemptive, as seemingly moral, even though it is essentially conspiratorial. As a result, politics ironically tends toward corruption, both of societies and of individuals, despite all the alleged moral drama that seems to be on going and normal. The moral fable that is thought to characterize the Watergate affair serves to cover up multiple conspiracies or cover-ups, e.g., by John Dean, Alexander Haig, Woodward and Bernstein, the Washington Post, the CIA, the FBI, James McCord, E. Howard Hunt, and of course Richard Nixon.  

 

                  Take note of the following from Carl Oglesby in his book The Yankee and Cowboy Wars: “Conspiracy is the normal continuation of normal politics by normal means…. [The] Yankee-Cowboy interpretation … is dead set against the omnipotent-cabal interpretation … in that it posits a divided social-historical American order, conflict-wracked and dialectical rather than serene and hierarchical [where] results constantly elude every faction’s intentions because all conspire against each and each against all….”

 

                  Oglesby’s interpretation is an interpretation not just of America and its order, but of the political generally or universally, including what are labeled “totalitarian” orders like Nazism or communism. Politics is never “serene and hierarchical,” is always “conflict-wracked and dialectical;” that is, is so in every regime, aristocracies as well as oligarchies, in monarchies as well as tyrannies, and in polities as well as democracies.

 

                  There might have been A Cruel and Shocking Act, [ironically the title of a book on the Kennedy assassination that denies its conspiratorial character]; while that act might well be cruel but it should not be shocking. Such assassinations are normal or the norm politically. In fact, for all its gruesomeness and its horror, the Holocaust was not a unique event. Those who affirm the political, as Carl Schmitt did, are embracing cruelty or, in current lingo, “shock and awe.” But the challenge should be taming the political, not affirming it. Even Machiavelli taught this, as did Montesquieu as well.

Nixon, Watergate, and the Political

 

Nixon, Watergate, and the Political

Peter Schultz

 

                  So, as most understand by now, Nixon’s demise as result of Watergate was due in part to the opposition of rightist Republicans and Democrats who were united by “intense and deep opposition to the Nixon-Kissinger foreign policies.” The issue discussed here is why his opposition proved more powerful than Nixon-Kissinger? Or, more generally, why are ideologues more powerful than “pragmatists?” And what does this tell us about political life?

 

                  Politics is intrinsically both conspiratorial and moralistic. And the best conspiracies and conspirators are those that disguise or dress their conspiracies in moral garb or clothing. Politics may be described as moralistically conspiratorial or conspiratorially moralistic.

 

                  Nixon’s Watergate problem was intensified by his embrace of conspiracy via the cover up. He treated the burglary as a PR or political problem and chose to deal with it conspiratorially. But he didn’t dress up his conspiracy as moralistic, whereas his political enemies did dress up their conspiratorial actions as moralistic. They, like Nixon, engaged in conspiracy, as illustrated by “Deep Throat.” But they were the accusers, while Nixon was the accused.

 

                  Nixon tried to deny his guilt instead of uncovering the guilty. Which is a neat trick: that is, the guilty seeking the guilty in order to cover up their own guilt. And it is trick that Alexander Haig, for example, seemed to comprehend. Nixon conspired to stay in office, while others conspired to get him out of office. Why were the latter more powerful? Because they dressed up their conspiracy as moralistic and the moralistic conspirators are always more powerful than pragmatic conspirators. Ideologues are always more powerful than pragmatists. “Let’s be practical” never trumps “Let’s be moralistic.” And many or even most think this a good thing.

 

                  Here, the ghost of Machiavelli appears with his admonition that humans, if they want to be successful, need to “learn to be able not to be good.” That is, they should learn to be and practice being practical, even when the practical is immoral or savage. Of course, if they can disguise their pragmatism as justice or liberalness or humanity, all the better.

 

                  Also, it is possible to emend Blaise Pascal’s take on Plato and Aristotle as thinking politics is like trying to bring order into a madhouse. For them perhaps, politics is more like a house of mirrors or even a fun house filled with dead ends, mazes, surprises, constant and even comical change.

 

                  Carl Oglesby, in his book Yankee and Cowboy Wars, captured this very well. The “Yankee-Cowboy interpretation,” although firmly embracing the conspiratorial character of politics, rejects “the omnipotent-cabal interpretation” of conspiracy and “posits a divided social-historical American order, conflict-wracked and dialectical rather than serene and hierarchical [where] results constantly elude every faction’s intentions because all conspire against each and each against all.”

 

                  And the grandest conspiracy of all is making this “conflict-wracked and dialectical world” look moral, so instead of seeing that “all conspire against each and each against all,” people think reality consists of good guys v. bad guys or that the world is or could be “serene and hierarchical.” In other words, the political is not so much a madhouse as it is a magic show or, as noted above, a house of mirrors.

 

                  This conspiracy is underwritten or left undisturbed by “the standard statistic-ridden, political-sociological models employed in conventional federal-academic discourse.” Such “models [ultimately] give us a lone madman here and a lone madman there,” thereby reducing “violet assaults on [presidents to] the purest contingency, [to] acts of God, [to] random events lying outside the events constitutive of ‘politics’ proper, … [and] of no greater interest … than the normal airplane accident or the normal heart attack.”

 

                  We focus on lone madmen, like Oswald, like RFK’s killer, like MLK’s killer, or like Donald Trump because of our skewed understanding of the political, of our failure to see “real reality,” viz., the conspiratorial moralism of the political. In this way, we don’t have to think about the political implications of, say, JFK’s assassination, of Nixon’s demise, or of Trump’s rise because acts of madmen have no political implications. They are merely random, chance, aberrational events. And, of course, as a result we can go on believing; that is, we can go believing that “there is nothing wrong [when] the wrong may be of Satanic magnitude.”

 

                 

Benjamin Franklin on the Presidency: Ambiton and Avarice

 

Benjamin Franklin on the Presidency as a Profitable and Preeminent Place

From the Constitutional Convention, June 2, 1787

Peter Schultz

 

 

                  “Sir, there are two passions which have a powerful influence on the affairs of men. These are ambition and avarice; the love of power and the love of money. Separately each of these has great force in prompting men to action; but when united in view of the same object, they have in many minds the most violent effects. Place before the eyes of such men a post of honour that shall at the same time be a place of profit, and they will move heaven and earth to obtain it. The vast number of such places it is that renders the British Government so tempestuous. The struggles for them are the true sources of all those factions which are perpetually dividing the Nation, distracting its councils, hurrying sometimes into fruitless and mischievous wars, and often compelling a submission to dishonorable terms of peace.

 

                  “And what kind are the men who will strive for this profitable preeminence, through all the bustle of cabal, the heat of contention, the infinite mutual abuse of parties, tearing to pieces the best characters? It will not be the wise and moderate, the lovers of peace and good order, the men fittest for the trust. It will be the bold and the violent, the men of strong passions and indefatigable activity in their selfish pursuits. These will thrust themselves into your Government and be your rulers. And these too will be mistaken in the expected happiness of their situation: For their vanquished competitors of the same spirit, and from the same motives will perpetually be endeavoring to distress their administration, thwart their measures, and render them odious to the people.”

 

                  A book, The Hunting of the President: The Ten-Year Campaign to Destroy Bill and Hillary Clinton, by Joe Conason and Gene Lyons, is adequate testimony to Franklin’s prescience. In 1787, Franklin described our political situation in the 20^th and 21^st centuries. And, of course, the Clintons were not the only ones who were hunted. Moreover, as Franklin foresaw, the Clintons themselves engaged in some “hunting” of their own against their political opponents in order to render them “odious to the people.” When John Dean recommended that the Nixon administration compile “an enemies list,” he was merely routinizing what had been happening for decades regarding the presidency. Franklin would not have been surprised in the least.

Hunting Presidents

 

Hunting Presidents

Peter Schultz

 

                  There is an interesting book entitled The Hunting of the President: The Ten-Year Campaign to Destroy Bill and Hillary Clinton, by Joe Conason and Gene Lyons. It’s a well-written and persuasive book, with one very large omission: It fails to recognize that hunting presidents – and other politicians, commentators, and pundits – is an American pastime, even to the point of being fatal at times.  

 

                  Hunting and being hunted are as common in American politics as are politicians. Richard Nixon hunted and was hunted for his entire career. LBJ hunted and was hunted his entire career, as did Ronald Reagan, Joe Biden, Donald Trump, Barack Obama, George Bush I and II, Dick Cheney, Lee Atwater, and so on and so forth. And then there are those who were fatally hunted: Huey Long, John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Fred Hampton, Lee Harvey Oswald, and others who were severely injured like George Wallace.  So, there was nothing unique about the ten-year campaign to destroy the Clintons. It was just American politics as usual.

 

                  There is another interesting book entitled American Dreamer, which is a biography of Henry A. Wallace, FDR’s vice president for one term and cabinet member, along with being one of the nation’s and the world’s leading proponents of scientific agricultural.  Because of his views, primarily because he advocated ending the Cold War and working for peace after World War II by seeking accommodations with the Soviet Union, Wallace was attacked in ways that make the campaign against the Clintons look like child’s play. And even after Wallace left office and was no longer seeking any office, the attacks continued. They only ended with Wallace’s death. The self-righteousness of Wallace’s enemies was, to say the least, impressive.

 

                  And, of course, the hunting continues now, along with the self-righteousness of the hunters. Trump and his supporters are self-righteousness toward Harris and Democrats, while Harris and the Democrats are self-righteous toward Trump and his supporters, ala’ Hillary Clinton’s “deplorables.” The sense of righteousness among our politicians is odd in that it is difficult to think of them as anything other than abysmal failures. It is difficult to think of successful policies that emanated from either party over the past few decades. Moreover, their failures are rather glaring. The government failed to prevent not one but two attacks on the World Trade Center, failed to prevent an insurrection following the 2020 election, invaded Afghanistan and stayed, winless, for 20 some years, invaded Iraq looking for non-existent WMDs, while creating a fiasco that led to the growth and strengthening of Islamic terrorists, and undertook a war on terror that has fed the forces of terrorism. It seems rather ironic: in the face of abysmal failures, self-righteousness flourishes. But then the political arena is an arena where irony abounds.

 

Nixon's Demise as a Right-Wing Coup

 

Nixon’s Demise as a Right-Wing Coup

Peter Schultz

 

            Since Ronald Reagan’s election in 1980 and re-election in 1984, it’s obvious that American politics has had a decidedly right-wing tone and substance. But what if it hasn’t been recognized the degree to which the rise of right-wing politics in the US was facilitated by left-wing politicians and players participating in the overthrow of Richard Nixon? That is, what if Nixon’s overthrow was engineered by conservatives who hated both his domestic and his foreign policies and that they were successful because they had left-wing allies who, for various reasons, also hated Nixon? And what if these left-wingers didn’t understand that they were actually undermining the possibility of a left-wing politics arising in the United States, a possibility that seems until this day impossible? 

 

            To understand this, it is necessary to also understand that the conventional narrative regarding the Watergate scandal and Nixon’s demise is more or less a fairy tale. While Nixon was guilty of obstructing justice in trying to cover up the burglary at the Watergate, the motivations that led to those burglaries were nothing like those attributed to the Nixon administration. Moreover, what Nixon and his supporters did regarding the 1972 presidential election had been done quite often and was anything but unique. The motivations of Nixon’s enemies, his right-wing enemies, were political while they knew or didn’t care that the burglary itself was not political. These right-wingers were out to get Nixon because he was willing to betray South Vietnam by seeking “peace with honor” [but not with victory], because he went to mainland China wanting to make China a legitimate member of the international community, and because he sought détente with the Soviet Union. He was willing, therefore, to bargain with “evil Communist empires.” From the outset of his administration, the Joint Chiefs of Staff had been spying on Nixon and Kissinger, which led to the creation of “the Plumbers,” Nixon’s way of trying to keep control of his agenda. When Nixon learned of this spying, he refused to hold those responsible accountable, in large part because he feared how the military would respond were he to do so. And even to the end of his administration, Nixon seemed unaware of just who his enemies were, e.g., Alexander Hair, Howard Hunt, and James McCord. 

 

            As the right-wing opposition to Nixon grew and gained strength, they managed to ally themselves with left-wingers who hated Nixon for his past sins, his earlier anti-Communism, his take down of Alger Hiss, his “dog whistle” politics, and his rejection of their bona fides as proper elites. The Watergate burglary was like a gift to right-wingers because they could use it to draw left-wingers into their opposition to Nixon and to use them to ensure his demise, even his removal from the presidency. Thus, although the Watergate burglary had very little to do with electoral politics, it could be used as the centerpiece of what was said to be Nixon’s attack on American democracy. In fact, Nixon and his minions did very little that was unusual with regard to “dirty tricks.” Nonetheless, the left-wingers were only too happy to go after “Tricky Dick,” even to the point of not considering what the broader political implications would be of his demise. They didn’t seem to realize what was actually going on, that by undoing Nixon, who was not a right-wing Republican, they would be contributing to a right-wing coup so that anyone following Nixon in the presidency would have to embrace right-wing causes, like ending détente with the Soviet Union or rejecting a broader rapprochement with mainland China. Not surprisingly, when Ford and Carter tried to continue some of Nixon’s policies, both failed because of right-wing resistance, as was to be expected. 

 

            By successfully removing Nixon from the presidency, the right-wingers then took center-stage, so to speak, in the drama of American politics. And along with Nixon’s landslide victory in 1972, which destroyed the legitimacy of the McGovern alternative in the Democratic Party, once Nixon was gone, driven from office by both right-wingers and left-wingers, the strongest forces in American politics were right-wing forces. So, by allowing themselves to be blinded by their hatred of Richard Nixon, the left-wingers undermined themselves and the possibility of a left-wing politics in the United States. The best they could do was to rally around “New Democrats,” like Bill Clinton; that is, around Democrats who seemed like “right-wingers lite.” And, of course, Clinton did little more than continue what was called “the Reagan Revolution,” while trying to disguise this fact with such meaningless programs as “Reinventing Government.”

 

            So, it would seem that the left-wingers did not recognize the political implications of Nixon’s demise; that is, the implications for the character of American politics broadly understood. And whatever the cause of this phenomenon, by participating in the overthrow of Nixon, the left-wingers had sealed their own fate. Henceforth, they would not, could not be a powerful political force or play a central role in the American political drama.

 

Pragmatic Illusions: JFK's Politics

 

Pragmatic Illusions: JFK’s Politics

Peter Schultz

 

                  Bruce Miroff, in his book Pragmatic Illusions, on the “Presidential Politics of John F. Kennedy” attributes to Kennedy a rather strange hybrid kind of politics.

 

                  On one hand, JFK treated foreign affairs as a realm of the apocalyptic, where communism and the Cold War represented an existential and moral threat to civilization itself. On the other hand, Kennedy did not or refused to deal with the domestic scene in apocalyptic terms. And this, Miroff argues, despite the fact that the civil rights movement was “a moral crisis that transcended the ordinary boundaries of American politics” and called out for JFK “to bear witness to its fundamental righteousness.” So, on the one hand, JFK was willing to act aggressively to preserve civilization and its moral principles when it came to the communist threat, but on the other hand, he willing to accommodate those opposed to civil rights in order to preserve domestic tranquility and protect his political prospects.

 

                  A suggestion: JFK’s politics were accommodationist rather than principled. And they were accommodationist not because that served his immediate political needs, e.g., getting elected and reelected. They were because JFK appreciated at some level of consciousness the dangers of principled politics, of a kind of politics that dramatizes political life as characterized by moral conflicts; in fact, as characterized by apocalyptic moral conflicts.

 

                  JFK’s politics were different than, say, Martin Luther King’s politics of non-violence. King argued that the purpose of “non-violent direct action” was “to dramatize [issues] so [they] can no longer be ignored.” Non-violent direct action seeks to create crises, which crises must then be dealt with, which cannot be ignored. So, non-violent direct action seeks to create conflict – King called it “creative tension” – even though those conflicts could and often would lead to violence. Dramatic, crisis-oriented non-violence is not always or innately non-violent.

 

                  Despite his rhetoric at times, JFK’s politics were accommodationist, seeking to avoid or moderate conflicts and crises. For example, JFK refused to use the US military during the Bay of Pigs invasion, leading to its failure. Surely, Kennedy had to suspect that that invasion was seen as a prelude to a US invasion of Cuba to overthrow Castro once it became obvious there would be no Cuban uprising against Castro. JFK also resisted sending US troops to fight in Vietnam, despite repeated attempts by his advisers to do so. Advisers yes, US troops fighting in Nam, no. He also rejected Eisenhower’s advice to use the US military in Laos. And, of course, he successfully did all he could to prevent an attack and/or an invasion of Cuba during the missile crisis.

 

                  So, JFK’s foreign policies and actions smacked of accommodation more than principle, as did his domestic policies and actions, especially regarding civil rights. As a result, he drew the ire, intense to say the least, of more principled politicos, both those on “the right” and those on “the left.” It may be said that JFK saw through the different principled elites vying for control of American politics. He saw through the militarism of the fervently anti-communists. He saw through the greed of the fervently capitalists. And he saw through the self-righteousness of those fervently seeking justice, racial and otherwise. Generally, it may be said that JFK saw through the appeal of principled politics, which is great indeed. The strength of that appeal might well be measured by JFK’S fate.

The Phoenix Program: Affirming the Political

 

The Phoenix Program: Affirming the Political

Peter Schultz

 

                  Finishing Douglas Valentine’s book, The Phoenix Program, which is about the Phoenix program that was created in Vietnam, a program that was charged with being an assassination program that engaged in terrorism by identifying, capturing, imprisoning, torturing, or killing large numbers of Vietnamese who were deemed to be the enemies of the state, the Government of Vietnam (GVN). After Vietnam, the program was used in El Salvador and Nicaragua and was at the heart of a Special Forces manual entitled, Tayacan: Psychological Operations in Guerilla Warfare.

 

                  As Valentine observes: “The goal was to organize the contras into armed propaganda teams that would persuade the people to stage a general uprising…. This was to be done through psychological operations, by reaching beyond the ‘territorial limits of conventional warfare, to penetrate the political entity itself: the ‘political animal’ that Aristotle defined.’ For once his mind has been reached, the ‘political animal has been defeated, without necessarily receiving bullets.’” [426] Central to this project of psychological operations is “the notion of ‘implicit terror,” as well as, periodically, “explicit terror” in order to compel people to embrace certain political beliefs and policies.

 

                  Implicitly then, according to the Tayacan, affirming the political means “penetrating the political entity itself” in order to defeat it. So, by this view, the goal of affirming the political is subjection for the sake of protecting the people in the name of democracy. And, necessarily, affirming the political involves both implicit and explicit “terror.”

 

                  If you think this sounds just crazy, off the wall crazy, just conjure up the fears governments use in order to make people compliant, fears of possible terrorist attacks or of viruses and pandemics. Moreover, conjure up capital punishment, especially when carried out in ways that are anything but humane, that are cruel but not unusual. I would argue that implicit and explicit terror are both common variables in political orders, all political orders. And the reference to Aristotle and his claim that humans are political animals, encourages us to wonder whether the old Greek wasn’t on to implications of that claim that are anything but benign. Viewing humans as political animals is a way of affirming the political, which, if the Tayacan is correct, has implications for the political arena that are, well, quite exceptional, where “neutralization” of political opponents would comprehend and even justify their “elimination with extreme prejudice.” Such thoughts might lead a person to wonder about the political and about those who thrive in that arena.

Limits or Emptiness? Accommodation or Principles?

 

Limits or Emptiness? Accommodation or Principles?

Peter Schultz

 

                  In my previous entry I wrote about the emptiness of politics. That seemed and seems rather radical so perhaps it is better to refer to “the limits” of politics rather than the emptiness of politics. What follows here are some meanderings on this theme.

 

                  While the emptiness of politics seems too radical, is it? Isn’t limits a “nice” way of saying empty because, ultimately, the limits point toward political failure, at least eventually? Political successes are ephemeral; so, while political successes might feel like flying, we are actually falling.

 

                  Quinn, writing about civilization, suggested there are “laws” which if followed would ensure success. But are there such “laws?” Isn’t the necessity of acceding to existing forces – which engineers know is indispensable – evidence that such “laws” are non-existent? Acceding is required because the existing forces are, in fact, “lawless.” The “law of gravity” is a metaphor that implies that gravity can be controlled, rationalized. It cannot. It must be acceded to.  

 

                  As a result of such speculations, accommodation becomes a – or even the – cardinal virtue. That is, accommodating behavior is superior to principled behavior, contrary to the prevailing conventional wisdom. The basic conflict is: accommodation v. principles. A politics of accommodation or a politics of principle. We get to choose. But, of course, we have lost sight of this basic conflict because it is now taken for granted by almost everyone that principled politics is the only appropriate kind of politics. Principled politics seems elevating, transformative even. Principled politics make us feel like we are flying. But, given the emptiness – or limits – of politics, we are actually falling.  

The Emptiness of Politics

 

The Emptiness of Politics

Peter Schultz

 

                  Here are some passages from Bruce Miroff’s Pragmatic Illusions, about the presidency of John F. Kennedy. “The history of the Alliance for Progress can be traced relatively quickly…. What requires fuller consideration is the story of what didn’t happen – the Alliance’s glaring failure….” [112]

 

                  Here’s a question: Is Miroff describing the failure of the Alliance for Progress or the failure of the political generally? Given that Miroff later describes the failure of the strategic hamlets in Vietnam, as well as the failure of that war generally, isn’t it fair to ask: Is the political arena essentially empty? That is, it isn’t only that Kennedy’s “pragmatic politics” dealt in illusions; it is rather that politics in general deals in illusions. In other words, the political arena is essentially empty. Or as one book has it, dealing with Nixon’s and Reagan’s war on drugs, it’s all “smoke and mirrors,” leading to the politics of failure.

Supreme Political Achievements

 

Supreme Political Achievements

Peter Schultz

 

                  Bruce Miroff, in his book Pragmatic Illusions, about John F. Kennedy’s politics, reports and takes issue with the argument that Kennedy’s handling of the Cuban missile crisis was “a supreme political achievement.” For Miroff, Kennedy’s handling of the crisis was too militaristic, foregoing diplomacy for some kind of military action that brought the world to the brink of nuclear war at least a couple of times. Kennedy, Miroff argues, ‘had brought the world to the brink of nuclear war for the sake of American prestige and influence [which] was hardly the stuff of political greatness.” [99]

 

                  Now, that’s a sensible argument but, as a thought experiment, entertain the idea that in fact Kennedy’s actions in the Cuban missile crisis did constitute “a supreme political triumph.” [99] What then does this tell us about “supreme political achievements” or “supreme political triumphs?” Do such achievements, such triumphs require a “crisis mentality,” which Miroff attributes quite persuasively to Kennedy? Are such achievements and triumphs dependent of an apocalyptic view of the human condition? And, finally, are such achievements and triumphs actually worth the dangers involved in them? After all, Kennedy brought on the brink of nuclear war over a relatively few Soviet missiles in Cuba, missiles that Secretary of Defense McNamara dismissed as inconsequential in terms of the nuclear balance of power in the world. Would nuclear war, which Kennedy did accept as a possibility as a result of his actions, have been worth it? Are supreme political triumphs worth their costs?

 

                  Or to consider another example: Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War is usually seen as a great political achievement, if not the greatest in US history. But what did this achievement involve? A horrendously bloody and terroristic war which, while leading to the formal abolition of slavery in the US, was then followed by the reinstitution of slavery in the South by another name and by an apartheid system called “segregation” in the North which lasted for about 100 years and led to degradation of the African Americans generally.

 

                  So, what should be made of “supreme political achievements?” Other examples that could be considered would be the Roman empire and the British empire, both of which are treated as supreme political achievements. Looked at candidly, unconventionally, what do these achievements tell us about the political? What do they tell us about political greatness? At the very least, these achievements should encourage contemplation of the political and of those, who in the name of greatness, affirm the political.

Political Illusions

 

Political Illusions

Peter Schultz

 

                  An interesting book by Bruce Miroff, is his Pragmatic Illusions: The Presidential Politics of John F. Kennedy. Miroff writes of Kennedy’s apocalyptic rhetoric and its meaning as follows:

 

                  “… Kennedy’s orientation toward crises – amounting to almost a sub rosa yearning for them – reflected the poverty of his pragmatic liberalism. Kennedy clearly wanted greatness, wanted the accolades of both the present and the future.” [66-67]

 

                  Now, substitute for the phrase “pragmatic liberalism,” “politics” or “the political” and note what emerges: It is not only “pragmatic liberalism” that is characterized by poverty but, more generally, it is politics itself. Political life is poor, offering little to human beings.

 

                  Hence, “the desire for greatness.” “Heroic action in moments of crises” is all or the most that the political can offer. Otherwise, the political offers human beings very little of value; it is poor because greatness was not to be acquired “in the task of changing society,” that is, in the ordinary course of political events. Greatness was to be harvested only by way of “apocalyptic” moments or events, e.g., a great civil war or a worldwide war on terror and evil.

 

                  Ironically, the desire for political greatness, for fame, for a kind of immortality reflects the emptiness, the poverty of political life generally speaking. As Lincoln indicated in his oration on “The Perpetuation of Our Political Institutions,” a seat in the Congress or even the presidency itself would prove to be unsatisfying, generally speaking. Ordinary political life, that is, doesn’t offer human beings much of value. Political life is, in that regard, valueless. Which is probably why it is touted as much as it is as a pinnacle of success and accomplishment.

The Politics of Duplicity

 

The Politics of Duplicity

Peter Schultz

 

                  The political realm is not a realm governed often by intelligence. I used to ask students to use one word that would describe what quality presidents should have. Universally, their response was “strong.” To which I responded: “Why not smart? Or compassionate? Or just?” Their response: “Oh, I meant smart too.” “Ah,” I would say. “But you didn’t say ‘smart.’ You said ‘strong.’  And you meant it.”

 

                  So, what governs behavior in the political realm? Is it strength? And, if it is strength, is strength sufficient? Or does strength have to be supplemented? At least rhetorically, supplements seem necessary, which points to the duplicitous character of political behavior. Because being strong is insufficient, politicians need to make themselves appear to be intelligent, just, and compassionate. Hence, their duplicity because, like my students, they too privilege strength as most important.  

 

                  But, in fact, strength or power are insufficient in that they almost always come up short. Or, put differently, strength or power works but only for a limited time, leading to the need for supplements or the appearance of supplements. The powerful cannot successfully govern simply by way of their power. Which is another reason duplicity is so characteristically political. The powerful, to preserve their legitimacy, are forced to hide or disguise the limits of their power. Hence, the cover-ups that pervade the political realm as politicians seek to hide the limited usefulness of power as revealed by their compromises and failures.

 

                  A danger arises, however, when duplicity is mistaken for power, rather than a being understood as a cover for relative powerlessness. It is because duplicity reflects and covers the limits of power, that it will, invariably, fail. A politics of duplicity is, essentially, a politics of failure. Just ask Richard Nixon. Or, for that matter, ask LBJ, Reagan, GHW Bush, Bill Clinton, G. Bush, Obama, Trump, and Joe Biden. All failed to one degree or another.

 

                  Impressively, Ben Franklin, at the constitutional convention in 1787, predicted – in his own way – that presidents were very likely to fail given the character of the presidency and the men it would attract. But then Franklin did not share Alexander Hamilton’s embrace of “the love of fame” as “the ruling passion of the noblest minds.” Franklin’s preferred presidents would be pedestrian, peaceful, definitely less “noble” than Hamilton’s lovers of fame, those who these days duplicitously deem themselves “visionaries.” So, perhaps Franklin had a point as Hamilton’s “nobility” has proved to be a disguise for what is just another group of “stentorian baboons.”